Bells & Whistles
by yrantho
Summary: Fairyale land: a desperate Tinker Bell makes a deal with Rumplestiltskin to protect her heart and escape the Curse. In this world, a lonely young lady ends up in the town of Storybrooke... Can her heart be freed? Jiminy Cricket/Tinker Bell Archie/OC


Over the years of imprisonment in his quiet dungeon, Rumplestiltskin had become very good at listening. There was very little else to do, most of the time. Whatever the reason for his new skill, he found that it encouraged him to sleep lightly. This was why, when a barely-perceptible sound disturbed the silence he was immediately roused from his almost-slumber. Opening an eye, he turned his head and frowned out into the dark cave, attempting to focus on the direction of the sound.

To the untrained eye, there was nothing there - this was evidenced rather well in the fact that there was nothing to be seen. But Rumplestiltskin knew better than that.

"It's awfully late for visitors," he said in a sing song voice, high and giggly.

Nothing.

Rumplestiltskin frowned, before jumping to his feet and moving to the bars of his cell with a cat-like agility. He pressed his face against them, hands gripping tight to the cold rock, and peered into the gloom. His head tilted this way and that, teeth bared as he looked for the source of the noise.

"You have to be careful these days," he drawled loudly, stifling a giggle."Never do know what's lurking in the shadows..."

A tiny bell-like tinkling noise rewarded his teasing, and Rumplestiltskin's eyes flashed golden in triumph.

"Ahhh! You're back," he announced towards a dull corner of the room.

There was another quick tinkling in response, like a small bell being shaken. Rumplestiltskin, however, easily understood the language and responded promptly.

"Indeed we did," he agreed. Then he affected boredom, examining the pointed nails of his hands with pursed lips. "But I rather thought you found my terms... distasteful..."

A short silence, then a subdued, quick, tinkle. It was a sad little sound but it made Rumplestiltskin grin.

"Not all sugar and spice, are you dearie?" He giggled to himself, grinning and scrunching his nose in delight. "I forget what ruthless wee beasties you fairies can be." Then his manner changed, and his voice was suddenly low and commanding. He moved to the edge of his cell and held his hand out between the bars, palm up. "Let me have it."

There was a quick, purposeful tinkle of fairy language.

"Ah, ah, ah!" he snapped immediately. "You get your side of the deal when I'm satisfied with mine, dear. That's how it works. Now _give_ it to me."

There was a scuffling noise from the far corner of the cave and something in the shadows changed. Presently, a single shadow seemed to detach itself from the surrounding gloom; it had the shape of a young boy but moved disjointedly, pulled like a puppet on a silvery string held by a greenish light that floated above.

Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands with sudden glee. "However did you manage it?" he questioned delightedly. "Oh... you are a naughty one!"

When the light got close enough, the silvery string was dropped into Rumplestiltskin's outstretched hand. He examined it closely. "Spider silk!" he exclaimed, recognising it almost immediately. "So very clever! Why, with a thread so fine as this I'm sure it didn't hurt him half as much!"

He enjoyed the tiny, painful tinkle his words produced. He knew exactly why the fairy had chosen to betray her friend, and almost felt a kinship with the angry little thing. She'd been betrayed, and it hurt. He knew exactly how much, because he orchestrated the betrayal in one of his deals. Nonetheless, it still rankled him how easily people were convinced into his shady deals. "Well..." he continued, looking to prolong the fairy's upset, "Perhaps not _half_. Having your shadow stolen is a _very_ painful business, as we both..."

A louder, blunter tinkle interrupted him. He screwed his face up childishly in the direction of the green light. Perhaps she's not as silly with grief as he expected. "_But not the business at hand_," he repeated mockingly, "No, of course not." He pulled sharply on the spider thread and the shadow slipped into the cage beside him. Muttering happily to himself, he examined the shadow closely. He finally looked up. "We have a deal," he announced.

The fairy light drifted forward as Rumplestiltskin crooked a finger at it. "Closer," he commanded. The light pulsed a deeper shade of green before it complied. Rumplestiltskin pushed his head against the bars, the green light reflecting oddly in his golden eyes. "Now, I won't give you exactly what you want, dearie..." He stopped, interrupted by a sudden loud ringing as the fairy darted towards him.

He caught her easily in a long-fingered hand and held her up, bringing his face close to the enraged fairy struggling against his grip. The light had faded somewhat, and he could see her tiny green-clad body and messy blonde hair. Her pale face had a scattering of colour across the cheeks: her fury was almost tangible. From what Rumplestiltskin could understand of her furious ringing it wasn't exactly complimentary. Ignoring her, he peered interestedly at her sharp little ears before he let her go. "I _can't_ give you what you want," he told her as she settled herself to float outside the cell again, arms crossed over her chest. "No-one can give you that now the Curse is made."

A sharp burst of tinkling made him laugh.

"But _I_ made it?" he repeated amusedly. "Now what makes you think that?"

Derision was clear in the next tinkle of fairy-speech; the grin fell from the imp's face.

"Oh no, no, _no_ dearie," he hissed, pressing his scaly face closer to the bars. The light darted higher, where he couldn't reach. He tilted his head up to fix it with his golden eyes. "Don't _ever_ think that. I'm not the only one mad enough to make it, not by a long shot. And at least I wasn't mad enough to _use_ it."

The fairy was silent. Rumplestiltskin pulled away from the bars slowly and looked back at the shadow on the ground, proof of exactly how desperate the fairy was. He hummed a short little tune before clapping his hands together, index fingers tapping against each other as he continued in a more even tone.

"But you'll get your loophole," he said, pointing his clasped hands at the fairy. "That was your deal." He pulled at the spider silk and watched as the shadow rose defeatedly. It looked very small. Shaking this thought from his head, he turned back to the fairy and beckoned her closer again.

"When the Curse is enacted, it will take every beating heart in the enchanted forest and gift it to the queen. They'll all be her prisoners." Rumplestiltskin did not sound sorry. If anything, he sounded positively eager. "But you," he pointed at her again, his lips pulled back in a smirk, "you'll protect your heart. If you use your fairy dust. And..." His voice took on a sing-song quality, "and your heart will stay your own!"

Silence as the fairy considered this.

"This will only work for you, dearie," he reminded her. "The deal only buys your own freedom." He hoped she heard how selfish it sounds.

There was a small tinkling as the fairy asked a question. She sounded hesitant.

"No, you'll still forget," he answered dispassionately. "You won't remember a thing, just like the rest of them!"

There was quiet, again, as the fairy seemed to think on this. Rumplestiltskin pretended to be concerned as he waltzed over to the back of his cell, dragging the shadow with him.

"Ohh, dearie..." he teased, all false charm and consoling words. "Surely there's nothing here you want to remember?" He pulled on the thread and the shadow jerked clumsily from where it was sprawled on the floor. ""Surely you don't want to remember... _this_?"

The fairy's tinkling was lower now, muffled, and Rumplestiltskin knew she was close to tears. _Good._ He licked his lips as he prepared his final blow.

"It's for the best, dear," he wheedled, "It's only fitting. He made a deal with me, and he bargained with his belief. Now he'll never grow up." His voice grew softer, but no less oily. "Little boys don't believe in fairies, Tinker Bell. And he wanted to be a little boy _forever_. He _chose_ to forget you. The best thing you can do is forget him."

To her credit, Tinker Bell did not move. He felt her hurt glare through the green light that surrounded her, but he could only admire her defiance. The light flickered for a moment and he realised how much she still cared for the boy she's betrayed, the boy who chose to stop believing in her. And how much she hates it, judging by the steadfast expression on her tiny face.

"There's another thing," he admitted, almost conversationally, though he knew she was hanging on his every word. "The fairy dust will guard your heart against the curse, but it's a curse in itself: it will guard against everything, good or bad, it won't differ. Your heart won't truly be free. Not in this world or the next, not while the Curse is active."

When it finally came, the fairy's tinkled reply was short and anything but sweet.

Rumplestiltskin laughed, loudly and freely. "Good?" he repeated incredulously.

_I won't be hurt there_, came the ringing reply.

The imp stepped back slowly from the cage, regarding the little green light strangely. Perhaps there was an element of surprise in his face, or the beginnings of understanding. There was a long silence before he spoke again.

"We're done here," he said harshly. "I've kept my end of the deal, fairy. You have your loophole."

Tinker Bell nodded sharply, sparing the stolen shadow a single glance only before she left. Rumplestiltskin watched her go, upset but armed with a way to combat the curse. But for herself only. Rumplestiltskin's lip curled at the thought. Selfishness is a thing he can't stand - at least in other people - and he mused for a while upon this, sitting on the stone floor of his dungeon, as he played with the boy's shadow on the ground before him. He found he rather enjoyed the quiet company: it reminded him of someone.

Suddenly, the imp remembered the bold young boy he made a deal with, mere weeks ago, at the cost of forgetting his friend. The boy to whom the shadow belongs.

"You did that to her," Rumplestiltskin told the shadow, because there is no-one else to tell. "You made her desperate. She'll be alone, there, you know."

The shadow did not respond, of course. Rumplestiltskin frowned slightly and drummed his fingers upon his knee as if remembering something unimportant. "Well, for a while," he added. "When the Curses weakens, the waning power will draw her back to the others."

The shadow appeared to question something, its head tilted to the side. The imp shook a hand impatiently.

"Magic calls to magic in all worlds, dearie. You should know that - she always managed to find you." Then a thought struck him and he giggled. "But you've forgotten all about that. You've forgotten all about her. And now she'll forget you too!"

The shadow didn't seem to have understood, but why should it? The boy himself has no recollection of his fairy friend, his belief traded for the privilege of never growing up, so why should his shadow? When Rumplestiltskin spoke next, there was a cold edge to his voice. "You made your deal, Peter. You forgot her, and she lost you. She lost her conscience. And now she's made her deal."

Rumplestiltskin's laugh was loud and echoing in the dark cell he now shared with the shadow of Peter Pan, the boy who didn't believe in fairies.

* * *

A/N:_ Just a little prologue to introduce my fairytale OC and where she fits into the story. Will eventually be Jiminy Cricket/Tink (Archie/OC) because Archie is adorkable and deserves all the love. ALL of it. My Tinker Bell is based on the J.M. Barrie version rather than the Disney, because I think she's slightly more interesting. Hence the fairy language like the "tinkling of bells", and the selfishness she suffers from not having Peter to put her right, or act as her conscience. Anyway, hope you like it. The next chapter will be set in Storybrooke where we'll meet Tink's real-life counterpart._

_Disclaimer: Everything pertaining to Once Upon A Time belongs to the appropriate owners and Tinker Bell is J.M. Barrie's. The over-active imaginaion and Archie-infatuation are the only things I'll lay claim to.  
_


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